


One for the road

by deepandlovelydark



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Board Games, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Comedy, Rescue Missions, Spies & Secret Agents, gun use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepandlovelydark/pseuds/deepandlovelydark
Summary: By all the odds, Jack Dalton knows, he ought to have been dead years ago. Everything since then has just been borrowed time; so he's more than willing to do anything for the man who gave his life back to him."The note says not to follow him," Bozer observes. "I guess Mac really meant it. Three exclamation marks and an underline.""Stuff that."Anything except actually listen to him, that is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-emptive fix-it fic.

“That is maybe the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Bozer tells him. “Which is actually pretty impressive, now I come to think of it.”

Jack huffs a little, as they scramble down the canyon (target destination’s only half an hour away, now. After the day they’ve had, rowing upstream against the Colorado River almost sounds restful.) “You’re not half as good at this banter shtick as Mac, you know that?”

“Sure, but- you don’t want to retire, because you think if you set a date on it you’ll die?”

Pump. Inflatable dinghy. Folding paddles. “You asked me for my pet superstition, you got one with bells on. Next question?”

Bozer’s still looking a little stricken. “Yeah, but- I thought you’d come up with something like ‘I throw salt over my shoulder,’ or ‘I hate tripping over black cats’, not something as morbid as this!“

(God help the kid. Matty’s hiring decisions for Phoenix might be smart by way of keeping her prize troubleshooter happy, but he’s gotta question whether a makeup artist-turned-agent really has what it takes for this job. Or he would, if he wasn’t around to keep tabs on their gang of misfits.)

“Well, ask Mac when we find him. If he’ll cop to having any superstitions at all instead of being insufferably smart-mouthed about it.“ Light and easy tone, as though they’re bound to be chatting together soon. As if eight hours trapped in Murdoc’s custody is no more than losing track of him during a trip to the hardware store. (Which has happened. More than once.) “Help me with the boat here? These things are worse than maps to unfold.”

Bozer softens then, as they start inflating it. “Actually, that was why I brought it up. See, I did ask him once, and you know what Mac said? He told me that he always had these feeling…if anybody kidnapped him like this, he’d know not to worry too much. Because you’d be around to watch his back and get him out of it. However bad or crazy the situation was.”

Oh. 

Bozer’s been trying to make  _him_  feel better. 

Fine, whatever. Emotional intelligence stuff- the timing seems way, way off, but at least he’s sussed out what’s going on now, all those sympathetic looks the crew’s been giving him. That Mac trusts him implicitly and absolutely, on the other hand, is so far from being news that it’s a hoot Bozer thinks he needs to mention it. That’s just how they roll.

“Somebody in logistics is gonna die now,” Jack says, examining the stubbornly deflated raft. “This has got a hole as big as my fist in it! Who the hell ever cleared this garbage for fieldwork-”

(and if Mac dies because of an idiotic screwup like this, he might just mean that literally-)

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I got this,” Bozer says, and whips out a roll of duct tape. “No sweat.”

“What, you just carry that around all the time now?”

“Surprised you don’t.”

“Point.” 

Half an hour upstream, that’s all. 

If they can’t get Mac out of this one, they aren’t good enough to call themselves his friends anyway. 


	2. Chapter 2

When the two of them do finally run Murdoc and Mac to ground, it turns out they’re playing Monopoly. 

Not that it’s exactly a family-friendly setup. The lair’s grim concrete, with a single flickering bulb providing light; the cuffs confining Mac to his chair are police-grade quality; Murdoc has dried blood on his chin and streaked down one sleeve. But that green board and those little houses sure are unmistakeable, and so is Mac’s absolute rage.  

“I don’t  _care_ how you played it at home, Murdoc, you don’t put money at Free Parking! There’s a rulebook for a reason!”

Murdoc smirks, reaches over the table to nudge him; Mac visibly cringes back, but looks in the indicated direction. 

“Oh. Hi, Jack. Hi, Bozer.”

There’s a certain hang-dog look on his face now-  _some secret agent I am, getting distracted by a stupid kid’s game-_ which is just the most puppyish thing. That’s one of the only things he misses about the service, Jack reflects. Turning his partner loose on an officer, or one of those Army Corp guys who act like they gave the world engineering, and watching the sparks fly. 

Maybe now is not the best time for nostalgia. “Let him go, Murdoc,” Jack says, hefting his gun. One of the big ones. He knows exactly how good this stance looks; he’s had enough practice sessions with it in front of a mirror. 

“Aw, would you like to play too? I have snacks!” 

“Nobody wants your snacks, Murdoc,” Mac says in a very bored tone. 

“Homemade or storebought?” Bozer asks, with all his amateur chef’s enthusiasm. Jack spares the time to shoot him a glare and he pipes down again. 

“...storebought,” Murdoc admits, after a moment. “Never mind. Would you two like to know why we’re all here?“ 

“Because you kidnapped Mac,” Jack snaps. 

“And why do you geniuses think I did that? Go on. No speculation too wild,” Murdoc offers.

Nobody wants to answer that one, it seems. Bozer eventually coughs, awkwardly, and Murdoc sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to have the explanations. All right, Delta, I’ll tell you and only you. Privately in the other room. Shouldn’t take a minute.”

For Mac, he’ll do even this. Seems weird though. “What, you’re just going to leave Mac in here with a trained secret agent, while we have our little tete-a-tete?”

“Of course I am,” Murdoc says, looking surprised. “What’s Bozer here going to do, apply mascara? Though come to think of it, I have some suggestions on that front...”

“Hey,” Bozer huffs. “I went to Spy Academy and everything!” 

“Please stop humiliating all of my friends,” Mac implores. 

 “Tough,” Murdoc says as he rises, patting the board affectionately. “I do so love Monopoly. It reminds me of family bonding sessions with my father.”

“You killed your father,” Mac reminds him, with an expression that might be either cagy or completely dumbfounded. 

“Well, that’s the only sensible response when you catch the other player stealing hundreds from the bank. You all didn’t think I murdered him for no reason, did you?”

Nobody wants to answer that one either. 

***************

“Make this fast, Murdoc.”

“As brief as you like, Delta- ha, Delta, you know why that’s hilarious? Never mind. I’m sure a brain like yours never found the room to squeeze in  _Brave New World.”_

He’s wrong there, actually, but it’s been decades since 10th grade English and Jack’s wary of getting caught out on the details. “All right, what’s the idea?”

“I’m keeping Mac safe.”

“You’re- excuse me, you’re what?”

“Keeping him safe,” Murdoc repeats, with a patience that could almost be mistaken for friendliness. “Do you know what the advantage of playing the villain is? It gives you the breathing space to foresee threats from all sides, and that includes the people who are supposedly on yours.“

“If you think for one minute that anybody on the team would dream of betraying him, you’ve got another think coming,” Jack hisses. He hefts the gun and points it at Murdoc again, which makes him feel better. 

Murdoc tuts. “I’m sorry, were you looking for disagreement? I have better things to do with my day.”

This is confusing now. “Then who are you talking about? If you mean Matty, she’d never-”

“No, not dear old Matty the Hun. Somebody else,” Murdoc says, again in his quasi-patient tone. “You don’t like him either.”

“James?” He can’t bring himself to call the man MacGyver; it’s just wrong. 

“Finally! Yes. You know, he cares so much less about MacGyver than I ever could, it’s almost impossible to fathom.”

Hard to disagree there. “I disagree.” 

“Hush,” Murdoc says. “Doesn’t it strike you as a trifle odd that the Man Behind the Curtain should have decided to come back into his son’s life?“

“It wasn’t exactly- well, Matty-”

“He wants something. Something that he thinks only MacGyver can provide. Something,” Murdoc says, smirking again, “that I know what it is and you don’t.”

“ _What?”_

“Tell me something, Delta. Did you get somebody to read you the note I had MacGyver leave? On the kitchen table, saying ‘don’t come after me with backup?’“

“I read it,” Jack says sulkily. 

“Ah, but did you follow instructions? Please say you followed instructions. I thought you’d trust it more if you could see it was in Blondie’s handwriting.”

“...just get to the point, would you? If I’d had a backup team waiting, don’t you think I’d have told Bozer to go with them instead?“

Murdoc narrows his eyes; there’s a brief, unpleasant moment when Jack realises they must look like two professionals just talking shop. “That...is fair, yes. All right. James MacGyver has a big, shiny temptation just perfect for driving his son out of that tiny adorable mind-”

“Tiny? You can’t possibly claim to be smarter than Mac-”

“And so I kidnapped him to make sure that he’d stay safely away from it.”

Jack wants to yell at him; realises there’s no reason why he can’t; goes full steam ahead. “But  _what is it?”_

They don’t get any further than that, because that’s when the Phoenix backup team charges into the room, taking Murdoc out before Jack has the chance to fire off a shot and blame it on battle reflex. Maybe he is getting a little old for this game after all.  

"Not the best timing,” he says to Bozer. 

Who shrugs, and keeps going with his phone call to Riley. “It all went like clockwork...Jack drew him off perfectly, Mac’s fine, we’re all good. Sure. Told you he’d underestimate me, yeah...what, the Big Cheese himself? Hey Mac,” Bozer calls. “Your dad wants to talk to you!”

He tosses the phone to Mac, who catches it one handed. “Uh, hi. Good to talk to you.”

Looking at him, Jack can’t help having a bad feeling about this. 


End file.
